


Cunning

by akire_yta



Series: prompt ficlets [307]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 11:37:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7616533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>sparrowsverse Asked For: Thunderbirds. Knitting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cunning

Being Thunderbird Five meant long stretches all alone, working under immense pressure, with no respite for socialization or even anything beyond the most mechanical of exercises.

John followed the flight surgeon’s manual religiously in regards to his cardo and strength exercises.  But unlike a lot of the other crews up here, John spent endless hours at the globe, or manipulating data at his work station, bent over screens and terrible scans and constantly changing maps of the world.

His first flight, he’d kept to himself the ache in his wrists until he was back planetside and could discreetly get them seen to by a masseuse.

The next three missions followed this routine, until his grandmother had taken him aside with a small bag under her arm.  “I learned when I was your age.  My hands were pretty much claws for most of my doctorate,” she said, pressing the soft bundle into his hands.  “I think you’ll find this helps.”

Now John floats, comfortable in zero G, the hab ring still and locked so he faces the Earth as T5 hurtled along her orbit.  Eos’ camera moves slowly along the track, curious, but she doesn’t speak as John expertly casts off the finished project.

Pushing off the wall, he sailed through the air, across the ring, to plant himself firmly on what was usually designated a wall.  Next to him, Eos turned her camera, tracking his movement.

John pushed his creation onto the lens casing, a deft flick of his fingers tying the toggles together.  “There you go, Eos,” he said, pushing back to float in the centre of the room.  Eos’ camera rotated for a moment before a second camera came skidding along the track to see what he had done.

“Very funny, John,” she said, but John knew her moods now, could hear her wry humour under the words.  

He smiled.  “Well, it gets cold in space.”  He flicked at the bobble with his nail.  “And if I do say so myself, it’s a very cunning hat.”


End file.
